Chapter 16 #2
“You really missed a great practice,” Trace says. “Jack was on fire.”
Mrs. Shanahan turns slowly, her face impassive. “He’s always on fire. I can’t possibly watch every practice.”
Trace frowns, but he doesn’t argue, at least. Then his chin lifts. “My mom runs a business and works part time. She has three kids, not two, and she never misses a practice.”
It’s slow, but a smile spreads across Mrs. Shanahan’s face. “And your fire, does that come from your father as well?”
Trace is scowling now. “No, that’s all from my mom. Dad was a cream puff.”
“It’s been a delight to see you again, Vanessa, but don’t let me keep you.” Mrs. Shanahan inclines her head, grabs Ryan’s hand, and half-drags the bouncing kids toward her shiny, black Range Rover.
Rory stops before she can be stuffed in and she waves. “Bye Ma! See you soon!”
The look on Mrs. Shanahan’s face is priceless.
Trace is too nervous to say anything the whole way home.
I can tell he’s really shaken up, because he doesn’t even make a joke about Rory calling me Ma.
It’s nice, honestly, to just turn on music and try not to obsess.
But once I get home, I’ve barely turned toward him when he says, “I’ll take Trina and get dinner ready, so you can talk to the girls. ”
I blink, but then I nod. “That would be awesome, actually.”
Trace hugs me then, and I freeze, like a deer that’s spotted something terrifying. It feels like the smallest thing could startle this version of him away. “I love you, Mom.” Then he releases me and steps back. “Come on, Trina. It’s time for some mac and cheese.”
“But I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich,” she says.
He rolls his eyes, but then he grunts. “Fine.”
She squeals as they disappear. I head for Natalie’s. She’s usually there—kids to thank for that—and she seems to always know where Samantha is. I try to push any lingering feelings of unease about how close they are and how I don’t quite fit in with them into the back of my brain.
I’m being stupid.
This is how I get. I felt this way when we were kids sometimes too, like Natalie and Samantha were the real friends, and I was just a tagalong they pitied.
It was never because of anything they did, but it was always kind of in the back of my mind.
So when I see them, at Natalie’s, talking and laughing through the kitchen window, I force myself not to worry.
I knock, let myself in, and dump the whole thing on them.
“His mother’s horrible,” Sam says.
“She’s the worst.” Natalie shakes her head.
Some commiserating words, a handful of cookies I shouldn’t have eaten before dinner, and some laughter about a rash on Sam’s armpit later, and I feel way better. “Thank you,” I say. “Hey, what about going to dinner? My kids are already eating grilled cheese, and they don’t need me for that.”
Sam meets Natalie’s eye, and they exchange some kind of glance I don’t understand. “Well, we kind of already—” Sam starts.
Natalie shakes her head. “We have to go make grain buckets for the horses, and to do that, we have to pick up the flaxseed. We could do dessert later, if that sounds fun?”
It’s already five. If they have errands to run, and they have to feed Natalie’s kids. . .plus, it feels like they had plans that just didn’t include me.
“You know, we should all go for a ride tomorrow,” Natalie says. “We could talk more, curse that woman out more, and riding always makes me feel better.”
But I don’t want to ride. I want to cry just thinking about how they already planned to go. I’m an afterthought, like I feared. “I have work tomorrow morning,” I say. “I’m sorry. Maybe early next week.”
“You have to work tomorrow?” Natalie asks. “But it’s a Sunday.”
“I got behind this week,” I say. “I have to catch up sometime.”
“That stinks,” Sam says. “Let us know. If you finish quickly, maybe you can still come with us.”
After I leave, I call Jack. It’s almost embarrassing how much of an impulse that has become.
“Hey,” he says. “Sorry I had to run and made you take the kids to my mom. I had that project at work I needed to finish, so she took them to Lismore Castle Gardens. They’re starting their holiday read-alongs.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” I say. “Really.”
“Bother. I should’ve had Ma take Trina along, too. I didn’t think of it until just now.”
“Jack, really, I’m not upset about any of that.”
“Well, I’m nearly done with my project, finally. I’d love to see you if—wait. You said ‘about any of that.’” He pauses. “Is something else wrong?”
It’s embarrassing, but I start crying.
“Oh, no. What did I do? It was only a matter of time before I screwed up something big.”
That just makes me sob harder. I start walking as fast as I can toward the big tree around the corner from the main house. No one ever goes there but me, so I shouldn’t be seen by anyone. “It’s not you,” I squeeze out. “It’s not.”
It takes a minute, and boy, Jack’s spun out, but I finally manage to tell him that my two best friends, the friends I followed here, are being weird. They’re closer to each other than they are to me, and it hurts seeing it.
“You have to talk to them about it,” he says. “I’ve seen them around you, and they love you. It’s plain as day.”
“Jack, have you met me?”
“I know you’re not confrontational. You’re a pleaser, and you’d do anything, suffer through anything, to make other people happy.
Vanessa, that was one of the first things I noticed about you.
You care more than anyone, but that means you get hurt more than most people from small slights.
If you just tell them, I’m sure they’ll do better.
I promise they don’t want you feeling left out.
I’m not a genius, and I’m a man, but even I can tell they love you. ”
It’s what I needed to hear, that they do care about me, but he’s also proposing the impossible, for me to tell them all my fears. “There has to be some other way. Maybe I could. . .”
“You could tell them in person, or you could write them an email or even a letter, but you have to tell them somehow.”
I can’t get off the phone with him until I’ve promised that I will.
Even though I know that’s a lie. And the way I know is that his mom has hated me for weeks now, and I’ve never said a word—not to him, and certainly not to her. It’s just not who I am.
If I’ve learned anything from my forty years on earth, it’s that there are some things you just can’t change in the world and about yourself, no matter how much you want to change them.
Jack comes over later, and I almost forget about my distress. Being around him makes things better. It calms me down. It centers me. It’s getting late though, and our movie’s about to end when I get a text message.
This is Nora, Jack Shanahan’s mother. He gave me your number. The Ballyrafter House is offering afternoon tea for the holidays, and I thought you might like to meet me tomorrow.
Her text reads like an email.
Jack shifts, half-lifting his head to try and read over my shoulder.
I snatch the phone back, pressing it against my shoulder. “That’s rude.” I glare. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
“Sorry.” He frowns. “But is everything alright? It’s pretty late for someone to text you.”
He’s right. Trina’s in bed. The boys should be soon. Jack should be headed home. “Who has your kids right now?”
“They’re staying the night with my mom.” He smiles. “Why?”
“And I’m guessing you told her why.” I roll my eyes. “Your mother just texted me.” I flip the phone around and show him. “It sounds like she’s arranging a business dinner.”
“That’s not good.” Jack frowns.
“Does your mom hate me?” I wonder whether he knows.
“I’m sorry I didn’t officially introduce you today.
I hope it wasn’t awkward for me to send you over with the kids, but she doesn’t hate you.
” His eyebrows shoot upward. “Not at all, but she’s intense, and she’s aggressive sometimes, and she and my father worried about me a lot with all the Sloane stuff.
It was almost as hard on them as it was on me. ”
“I can imagine.” And I actually can. Maybe his mom just loves him a great deal and is super protective. Once I win her over, perhaps she’ll be like that with me, too.
“Just ignore it. I’ll call her tomorrow and tell her we already had plans.”
“But we don’t have plans,” I say.
He chuckles. “As far as I’m concerned, I always have plans with my girlfriend.” He shifts me closer, so my back rests against his chest. “Being with you makes me happy, so whenever I’m not busy, that’s where I want to be.”
I feel the same way, mostly. But right now, I’m too nervous to enjoy it. “I think I should meet her.”
“Or, I can push my mom off again, and you can talk to your—”
“Wait, did you say again?” I twist around to stare at his face.
He definitely looks guilty. “Well, she’s asked a few times to get together with you, and I didn’t—she didn’t actually get the number from me. Well, she did, but not voluntarily.”
“You’ve been telling her no when she asked to meet me?” Now I’m surprised. “That doesn’t sound very much like the Jack who was telling me I had to talk to my friends. You said open communication’s the key, right?”
He grimaces. “Look, I’m not exactly young, and in my entire life, would you care to guess how many women I’ve liked that my mom has also liked?”
I shrug.
“Zero, Vanessa. You could be Mother Theresa, and she’d be upset that you were a nun.”
I laugh. “I mean, she’d have reason to be.” I shake my head. “I’d be a terrible nun, and I look awful in black. Plus, nuns can’t date.”
He laughs, too. “And you’re not even Catholic.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s true. I’m not Catholic, and you are.” My eyes widen. “She’s not going to like that.”
“I’m going to save you some time. She’s not going to hate you, but she’s also not going to like anything about you, so you should just let me tell her you can’t go, and I’ll tell her to lose your number.
We can deal with my mother when we absolutely have to, and we can ignore her until then and after that again as well. ”
“I have to see her,” I say. “Things like today will happen again, and that doesn’t seem like a great plan.”
He shrugs. “I’ve done the same thing my whole life. Look, she loves me, and she loves my children, and she helps out whenever I need it, but God made her different. She’s impossible to please, so you shouldn’t even try.”
“You should have a shirt made,” I say. “It should say, ‘I’m hot, but I have a horrible mother.’”
He laughs. “But I had that on, you’d have run the other way.”
I roll my eyes. “You run fast enough to catch me.”
“I do. And I always will, if you get any ideas.” He tugs me closer and kisses me then, and I forget all about his mom.
But once he’s gone for the night, I do the most un-Vanessa-like thing I’ve ever done, and I text her back. I like Jack enough that I shouldn’t be doing anything close to running away.
Sure, I’ll be there at three.
I may not have the bravery to tell Sam and Natalie that they’re being strange, but I can confront the total stranger who dislikes me without knowing me at all. Maybe it’ll be good practice. Maybe with Jack supporting me, I can change. Who knows? Weirder things have happened.